Survival
by tokiya-kun18
Summary: “Yunoki-senpai?” Ryotaro uneasily said. “Yes?” Azuma gently questioned back. “Um . . . . What the hell are you holding?” The pianist bit his lower lip, as he stared at the item in Azuma’s hand in horror. “A . . . . gun,” answered the senior.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:: Since when did I own La Corda D'Oro? Never. I'm never going to own anything related to La Corda D'Oro. (-: Although if I wish, I'd want to have Kiriya, LAWLz. Also, some other contents in here like . . . . stuff you should just read for yourselves . . . . I don't own them, or anything for that matter! OK!? . . . . Good. {With the exemption of this Three-Shot. (-:}**

**This is only a Three-Shot {since I don't want another In-Progress story. Oh . . . . This IS going to be an In-Progress story, huh? Damn it.}, probably an 'experiment' on something that's been nagging me.**

**Anyhow, I'm not sure what kind of genre to put it. So . . . . it's Friendship/Humour for now {if you say it's Parody, then I'll put it in Parody}.**

**Please read on! (-;**

**23.04.10.-**** Oh! And tons of 'thank you's to _-sera-chan011-_ for Beta-Reading! Sorry for all the troubles so far, girl. :-P  
**

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It was like any other day in Seiso Academy. Students were flocking their way to their classrooms in rush as they were late for school. The so-called fan-girls of Azuma and Aoi were still worshipping the aforementioned musicians, getting into an argument on which of the two guys was hotter and whatnot. And the former concours participants were . . .

. . . hiding? Why?

"Hey, Shimizu, would you stop stepping on my foot?" complained the green-haired pianist, Ryotaro Tsuchiura. He exhaled in exasperation as the junior, yet again, stepped on his already aching foot.

"I'm sorry . . . Tsuchiura-senpai," mumbled the cellist, Keiichi Shimizu, sleepily. As usual, the blonde-haired boy looked as if he would pass out. His fringes covered half of his face as he looked down and doze off once again. He didn't realise that his body was falling like a withering flower.

"Ah! Got'cha!" the trumpeter, Kazuki Hihara, exclaimed as his arms circled around the dozing cellist's frame in order to prevent him from painfully hitting the ground.

The cerulean-haired violinist, Len Tsukimori, sighed in irritation. He didn't like the idea of being locked in; neither did he like the idea of being inside the same room as Ryotaro.

. . . . So, they weren't hiding, after all.

Which reminded him—why were they in here in the first place? And where was 'here'?

As if voicing his thoughts aloud, Kahoko Hino asked everybody in confusion, "What are we doing here? Why are we locked in all of a sudden? Shouldn't . . . shouldn't we be in class by now?" She couldn't remember anything that had happened this morning except the memory of her being inside her room, sleeping soundly with her favourite pink pyjamas on. In bed, if she might add in. Yet here she was now, surrounded by six guys and one girl, wearing their respective uniforms, confused and wondering.

The general question that crossed her mind was: Who could have changed her clothes?

Kahoko blushed in embarrassment as she tried figuring out who did it. Her older sister? She doubted it, Hanako's living with her new family somewhere in Britain, as her husband got promoted. Her mother, then? Still no, since she was out working. And Kahoko certainly didn't want to think that her father and brother did it.

The female violinist blushed an even darker red as she thought about it, her face making her vermilion hair paler in comparison.

"I don't know," Aoi Kaji grimly answered. "I'm sorry, Hino-san, but I haven't got a clue. I can only remember walking to school and suddenly, everything went black. It was as if someone knocked me out from behind!"

"It would have been better if you stayed unconscious for the rest of your life," Azuma Yunoki muttered to himself. The idea of Aoi sleeping for eternity was quite . . . . _tempting_ for him. He'd do anything to keep that annoying blonde-haired violist shut. He annoyed him like hell. If hell was like this, that was, he wanted to escape from it. Just away from him.

"Hm? D—Did you s—say something, s—s—senpai?" asked Shoko Fuyuumi timidly. She swallowed her discomfort and the butterflies dancing in her stomach around the lavender-haired flautist. She had heard him say those words, — some of it — because she was standing next to him. But she thought that she was just hearing things. Shoko wouldn't believe that her gentle senior would want Aoi dead . . . . or would she?

"Oh?" Azuma was mildly surprised at the teal-haired girl's question. She . . . . heard him? Although he brushed the emotion away and answered in a composed tone, "No, I didn't, Fuyuumi-san." He flashed her a charming smile, making the clarinettist shy away to her favourite upperclassman: Kahoko.

"What's wrong?" the redhead asked in worry, being brought out of her (embarrassing) reverie, when Shoko went to her side and gripped the sleeve of her uniform.

"N—Nothing's wrong, Kaho-senpai," Shoko smiled a small smile, her face painted with discomfort.

"Are you sure?" For some reason, the redhead didn't trust her words. Something happened, she knew it. The only problem was she didn't know the cause.

"Y—Yes," nodding her head carefully, the clarinettist replied.

"O — K."

"Does anyone here know how to unlock this door?" Len asked, pointing to the crowbar stuck on the metal door. He had already attempted to take it off but proved to be futile. The crowbar was heavy and it prevented any means of escape.

"You simply take that metal off," Ryotaro said, raising an eyebrow. "What? You didn't know _how_ to open it when it's obvious?" He smirked, relishing Len's reaction. Well, not really, since he was still stoic and expressionless as ever. He _enjoyed_ provoking him.

"Tried," Len monotonously answered. He wouldn't let the pianist's words get him. Oh no; he wasn't that low. Only dumb people like Tsuchiura would do that, he thought, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Why don't you do it since you _know_ so _much_?" the cerulean-haired male coldly said. At least his muscles would be of some use, he shrugged at the thought, walking out of the athlete's way.

"Fine," Ryotaro said, breathing in and out, readying himself. With a strong heave, the crowbar landed on the ground, unlocking the red metal door. Ryotaro couldn't keep his grip on the metal, explaining why it landed on the ground with a 'thud', instead.

"The door's open, Your Highness," the green-haired boy sarcastically said, bowing in mockery as Len passed by him.

"Thank you, _servant_," said Len with equal sarcasm. He opened the door and walked out, only to come back inside the room and shut the door securely behind him. They couldn't see his expression as his fringes covered his face as his head was bowed down.

"What's this? His Highness has returned? That was such a short journey, don't you think?" The male violinist only harrumphed at his poor remark.

"Cut it out, you two!" with a childish pout, Kahoko said. "Fighting wouldn't do any good to us."

"Kaho-chan's right," agreed Kazuki, when he had laid Keiichi down on the soft couch. The lime-haired senior kept quiet until now, since he was too absorbed with thoughts of his own.

"I suggest sitting silently like the ladies over here," Aoi said, motioning to Kahoko and Shoko's direction.

"Hmph." Rather unfortunately for the violist, Len and Ryotaro ignored him. They went to their separate ways, or rather, to the opposite side of the room.

The dimly lit room consisted of little furniture: two long wooden tables, four chairs, a couch, a coffee table, a lamp, a wardrobe and a water dispenser. The television might be considered as one, only it was broken.

The room's walls were painted of dull white, which was starting to wear off. And the ceiling wasn't painted at all. On top of that, the ceiling was also leaking; droplets of water hitting the ground with a steady beat.

It was boring, they all thought.

Ryotaro's bullion orbs wandered around the room, observing everyone's movements — excluding a certain male — and lastly landed on their lavender-haired senior, who seemed to be busy meddling with the wardrobe.

I guess he's looking for some change of clothes, the pianist thought humorously.

He decided to approach the lonesome flautist, wanting to confirm whether or not his thoughts were true, and stopped a good few steps away from him. Ryotaro crossed his arms on his chest, shifting his weight on his legs and asked, "What are you doing, Yunoki-senpai?"

"I'm trying to look for something useful," Azuma said, arising from his sitting position with an item at hand. He turned his back on the wardrobe so that he could face the pianist fully, and smiled innocently.

Ryotaro stared at their senior's hand; changing his gaze from the item to the irritating smiling face of Azuma. What the hell, he thought, blinking. Ryotaro guessed that by blinking a couple of times, his _hallucination_ might eventually go away.

"Yunoki-senpai?" Ryotaro uneasily said.

"Yes?" Azuma gently questioned back.

"Um . . . . What the _hell_ are you holding?" The pianist bit his lower lip as he stared at the item in Azuma's hand in horror.

"A . . . gun," answered the senior.

There was a brief silence before the green-haired boy exploded, "WHAT?! WHAT THE HELL WOULD YOU DO WITH A GUN?! A GUN!!!"

"That's for me to find out," Azuma calmly said, making Ryotaro face-palm. One more crack like that and the pianist would surely bang his head on the wall in frustration.

He's really unexpected, Ryotaro confirmed, nodding his head in agreement with his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Azuma seemed more amused than usual; probably because of his junior's sudden outburst. He wanted to laugh at the green-haired boy's reaction; it was so hilarious with the way his eyes widened like dinner plates and his mouth hung open — reaching the ground below — like a curtain; but decided not to in the end, since it would ruin his good student reputation.

"I found them inside the wardrobe," Azuma explained, smiling at his juniors and at Kazuki who're all staring at him in disbelief. "I wonder what we need them for . . . ." He purposely trailed off, turned his side slightly and glanced inside the said furniture, "There are also first aid kits, ammunition, more guns, explosives, defibrillators, a chainsaw, a cricket bat, a katana, pain pills and adrenaline shots."

"What the hell?! Yunoki! How did you identify those things???" Kazuki asked, rushing toward his best friend and gripping his shoulder tightly. Azuma winced a little, though he did his best to hide the pain he was undergoing.

"Besides, what do we need those for?" Kazuki asked again.

For shooting Kaji down, Azuma wanted to say this but kept silent instead. He merely smiled and touched the lime-haired boy's hands on his shoulders before taking them off.

"Who knows?" It wasn't a question, rather, it was a statement. And about the part where Kazuki asked him where he got the knowledge about those, he ignored it and thought that by saying those two words, also, it would answer both.

"So . . . what do we do now?" asked Kahoko, who arose from her seat and approached the seniors. Shoko trailed behind her.

"I say grab a gun and other things Yunoki-senpai mentioned for safety," Ryotaro somehow recovered from his outburst, walking to the wardrobe and taking out an AK-47, first aid kit, pain pills and a bottle of thick green liquid he didn't know what it was.

"But it's not safe for Hino-san and Fuyuumi-san to carry such things," Aoi commented, standing beside the girls. "Don't you think it's improper to make them hold guns?"

"You are right about that, Kaji-kun." Azuma didn't want to admit it, but blondie's got a point. He could clearly picture poor Shoko carrying a Gatling gun and Kahoko running around the place with a chainsaw.

But . . . thinking about it . . . that would be quite a sight, Azuma inwardly smirked, enjoying his little fantasy. Great; now I'm going crazy, he thought, heaving out a sigh.

The flautist's gaze wandered around the room, taking in the details, until they landed at a certain cerulean-haired boy's figure. He smirked and walked over to Len's place, putting his princely façade on.

"Hi, Tsukimori-kun," he greeted as the violinist nodded in acknowledgement.

"What is it, Yunoki-senpai?" Len politely asked, offering the senior a seat.

"Thank you," Azuma said, sitting on the wooden chair. He locked gazes with Len and asked, "You . . . don't look so good, after you went outside, Tsukimori-kun. I'm concerned. Is there anything unpleasant you saw outside? Maybe if you tell me, it might lighten you up."

"It's . . . ." Len couldn't lie; he knew that the guy he was talking to was very sharp. Persistent, he added.

Len sighed, massaging his temples, and answered:

"There are a lot of people outside, only thing is, they didn't _look_ like humans. Like us." And the scenery's difficult, Len mentally added.

"Oh? Really?" Azuma was genuinely interested now. He thought of the different possibilities regarding Len's statement.

That was really a sight to behold, he mused.

"If you want to see it for yourself, be my guest." With that said, Len quickly yet carefully joined the others, looking at the objects laid down in a disapproving way.

Well, since Len insisted, Azuma went to the door, opened it and walked out. The scenery was different, he thought. It was like being in another planet — which he definitely hadn't experienced yet — with all the greenery and silence engulfing him. There were tons of different types of trees—from pines to oak trees to conifers and the like. The sky looked bright, but the sun was nowhere to be seen. And the smell . . . Azuma sniffed the air and regretted it deeply afterwards. The whole place stunk of rotten dead bodies — in his opinion. God, it was horrible.

When he couldn't take it any more, he went back inside, disappointed of not being able to see what Len had said — about a lot of not-so-human people wandering. It was when he was half-way inside the room that someone touched his shoulder, cold breath tickling his neck, and the sound of a person gurgling rang inside his ears. He immediately spun around in surprise, and without thinking — giving in to his reactions —, pulled the trigger of his gun. The sound of a loud 'bang!' lingered in the air, as Azuma stared at the corpse-like being, lying dead on the ground. The thing which seemed like a zombie had a hole pierced through his head — the place where Azuma had shot it.

After he decided that he'd seen enough, he went inside the room and closed the door behind him.

Everybody stared at him blankly.

"Yunoki . . . you . . . ." Kazuki started, only to be cut off.

"Shot someone by the door; yes."

There was silence before Kazuki exclaimed:

"EEH?! You KILLED someone?!? Oh, God! No way! It's hard to believe!" Kazuki continued shouting, until Ryotaro shut him up.

"Calm down, Hihara-senpai. I'm sure Yunoki-senpai have a reason behind his action," the pianist said, staring at Azuma with a 'you-have-one-don't-you?' kind look.

"Take . . . deep breaths . . . senpai," Keiichi said, rubbing his drooping eyes with his hands, as he sat up. He gave out a cute yawn and blinked. The shot Azuma'd done woke the blonde-haired cellist up.

"OK. OK." Kazuki did as instructed, until he was finally at ease. He tried to look as calmly as possibly, as he approached the lavender-haired boy, standing by the doorway with a gun at hand.

No . . . try imagining him the usual Yunoki, Kazuki thought. No guns. Just him and his smiling face. No guns. Just the Yunoki surrounded by his mob of fan-girls . . . .

"U — WAH. BLA — KE — WAH," the zombies outside, moaned, pounding on the door with their hands loudly.

Everybody in the room jumped back in surprise, all eyes glued on the door.

Aoi rushed to the flautist's side, leaning against the wall next to the door. His emerald green eyes looked at each person and said, "When I open this door, everybody shoot outside, OK? Try your best not to shoot me; otherwise, I'm obviously going to die."

Which I'll try not to, Azuma thought as he pointed his gun — a Desert Eagle — at the red metal door.

"On the count of three, you guys shoot," Aoi said, one hand resting on the handle, while the other gripped a Micro SMG.

"One . . . . Two . . . . Th—"

"Wait!" Kahoko yelled, halting the violist.

Everybody's eyes went to her small figure as she shifted uncomfortably on her ground.

"What is it, Hino?" Ryotaro asked rather impatiently. The sound of zombies pounding on the door was getting on his nerves.

"Well . . . can't we just call for help? I mean, does anyone here have a phone with them . . . .?"

Silence. Then all of them said 'no' in unison.

"Oh . . . ."

"Can we please get this over with?" Len sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

" . . . Yes."

Aoi cleared his throat, repositioned himself and held the handle of the door nervously, "One . . . . Two . . . . Three . . . . NOW!" He immediately ducked, as the door swung open and everybody began firing, including him.

There were so many zombies that they thought it was going to last forever. Fortunately, they had all the ammunition and things to protect them inside the room.

On the downside, there wasn't any food in store.

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**I just love guns. XD Hopefully, I might be able to finish this within a week's time. This is Part 1 of 3 of this story. (-; Please wait for the next one! And also, sorry about the OOCness and the confusing plot/scene change. ^ ^'  
Please don't forget to review. ^ ^**


	2. Chapter 2

**oh, b'jesus! this is no longer a three-shot. maybe a four or five-shot, but no more than that!**

**anyhow, sorry for the wait. here's the next chapter. enjoy! ^ ^**

**many, many, many special thanks to _-sera-chan011-_ for beta-reading! also, the genre is changed from 'friendship/humour' to 'friendship/adventure'.  
**

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After raining the zombies with bullets, the concours participants all collapsed on their feet. They were so tired, yet there was still a horde coming their way.

Ryotaro groaned in frustration, "There's no end to this!" He glanced at everybody in the room then turned his attention back to the metal door. The zombies were still pounding on it and were screaming and moaning to no end. It annoyed all of them — especially Ryotaro.

Len sighed, running his fingers through his hair and groaned. "Is there anything we could do other than shooting _those_ things down?" He pointed at the door using his thumb.

"Unfortunately . . . none." Aoi grimaced, peering at the door slightly and shooting the zombies through the small opening. One of the zombies' hands caught Aoi's arm which took him by surprise. It began pulling him out with unbelievable strength, and he struggled to free his arm before deciding to shoot it with the micro SMG at the other hand. When the grip loosened, he quickly jerked his arm in, and closed the door tightly behind him. "That was . . . . That was a close one." He inspected his arm, trying to see if he got scratched or not, and sighed in relief when he found none.

"Kaji-kun!" Kahoko exclaimed, dashing to the violist's side. She took his arm that was being pulled earlier, and looked over it. All the while, the blonde-haired boy blushed at the contact; and the little scene caused a couple of jealous — murderous for one — glances at his direction, which the boy failed to notice as he was watching the redhead intently.

"Are you alright?" Kahoko asked in concern, absent-mindedly rubbing Aoi's hand which caused him to blush darker.

"One way or another, I suppose," Aoi responded, trying to calm his violently beating heart. This little moment with Kahoko made him feel . . . special, somehow. His _goddess_ was touching him—the girl he admired (and still does) and fell for. He always thought that his presence was not worthy of her like a servant towards a princess, but by seeing how concerned she really was, he couldn't care less. What mattered was that she was safe . . . and still breathing.

"Thank God you're not hurt." Kahoko smiled one of her beautiful smiles which made Aoi's breathing hitch. She let go of his arm, much to his disappointment, and stood in front of him.

What was she doing? Aoi thought as he gazed at those wide, bright, innocent, beautiful bullion orbs. He could lose himself by merely staring in them. Those eyes that could pierce through his soul, see his whole-being and captivate him to no end. He wanted to gather her in his arms and never let go . . . .

. . . . until his fantasies were cut short by the growling of her stomach.

Aoi blinked and so did everybody else in the room. Kahoko blushed, and dropped her head in order to hide it to no avail. There was silence before the redhead said, "I guess . . . it's time for lunch?"

Aoi chuckled, finding the redhead's behaviour cute.

"It sure is." He smiled at her softly, and escorted her to sit down on one of the chairs. Before Aoi could begin his search for food, Kazuki halted him.

"There's no food around here; I checked earlier. We only have water, but I'm not sure if it's safe to drink or not." The lime-haired boy frowned, his eyebrows meeting with a crease on his forehead. Kazuki expectantly glanced at the door, his long fringe following the movement of his head. His attention was at the banging sounds outside, hoping that somehow it would all stop so they could have some peace for once. He had an idea, of course he had, but it was risky.

As if reading the trumpeter's mind, Aoi stated, "We could get food in the shops outside. But . . . ."

"But it's too dangerous to go charging our way out there. Those creatures are definitely going to attack us in our attempt to get what we want," Azuma continued the violist's sentence, nodding in agreement. He leaned back on the cold, concrete wall behind him, crossing his arms on his chest and propping a knee as he rested his left foot on the wall. He eyed everybody, especially Kahoko, as if debating with himself about some things that should and should not be done.

"Makes sense," Ryotaro grimly said, sighing inwardly. He walked toward the small group, joining them in their conversation. He could imagine each and every one of them, fighting their way through, getting scratched and injured, until they reach their destination. It wasn't a pretty sight. The thought of undergoing such pain . . . fighting for survival . . . wasn't very appealing, in his opinion. They felt like deer in the forest, being hunted down and devoured by lions. And blood . . . that cursed thick, crimson liquid that flows around the body, bringing oxygen to every cells and such . . . he could see them, feel them strike down a wounded body part, as if he were truly wounded. He shivered at the thought; God, wasn't this cruel or not?

"We get our food if we managed to survive." Len sat down on the floor, finding that it was the same whether he sat on a chair or not. He crossed his legs, enveloping them together in an Indian sit. Len touched the Spaz Shotgun resting on his lap lightly, as though frightened that it might fire unexpectedly. He just wished that it was his precious golden violin, instead of a murder weapon. Or not since it was _too _precious and important to him — he couldn't (and wouldn't) imagine himself hitting those undead creatures with his violin. He knew it would break with just one swing, and he didn't want that to happen.

He situated himself far away from the wardrobe, thinking that it's safer if he were to be away from it. The materials inside made him disgusted inside out. He wondered, When will all of these end?, just like everybody else.

"But . . . the things outside . . . will get us . . . if we didn't," Keiichi added, narrowing his sleepy yet wide lapis lazuli eyes on the door, as though casting a glare on it. But that particular action only made it seem that he was drowsy to the others. Who would believe that the innocent cellist would actually _glare_ at something? It didn't sound like him.

Keiichi was sitting on the couch. His upper body bent forward, with his long, slender arms resting on his lap, his hands hanging lazily as it pointed downward. Keiichi's fringe almost covered half of his face because of its length. He'd have to remember to cut it next time . . . if there would be a next time, that was. The young cellist, for the first time, seemed to be more aware of his surroundings. He attentively listened to his seniors' conversation, all the while joining them as he added his own comments here and there, much to their disbelief.

His large, lapis lazuli orbs that looked so captivating under the dim light, made him look handsome rather than cute. The shape of his cheekbones, his childish features seemed to be disappearing as if he were maturing every second. But most of all, the seriousness his face and the tone that his voice expressed, assured the others that he meant every word he said and would say.

Keiichi's eyes darted to the little teal-haired clarinettist who was fidgeting in her seat. She was uncomfortable—he knew it—about the idea of killing someone for her own safety and survival. She was totally against violence.

Shoko didn't fire, nor held a gun earlier. Instead, she sat down on a chair, closed her eyes shut, and covered her ears, as if she wanted everything to stop. Her whole body shook in fright; she nearly screamed earlier when she saw blood gush out of the zombie's body as the others simultaneously fired at it; raining it with bullets; making sure that it was dead. Shoko tried to erase the horrible memory out of her head, but alas, it was imprinted . . . stuck there for all eternity.

The clarinettist avoided any eye contact. She sighed, trying to calm her heart and even her breathing. She sat on the wooden chair, arms folded on her lap, hands clutched into fists. She bowed her head down, hiding her face in her teal-coloured waterfall, making it hard for anyone to see her expression.

But Keiichi knew better.

The blonde-haired cellist arose from his seat quietly, careful not to attract any form of attention. He approached Shoko and stood two steps away in front of her. He knelt down, bending a leg so that he could rest an arm on it, and gazed at the girl's bowed head, waiting for her to recognise his presence yet to no avail. After for what seemed to be like an hour, Keiichi broke the silence between them, "Fuyuumi-san." When he got no answer, he sighed and repeated, "Fuyuumi-san . . . ." Her silence was starting to worry him; Keiichi — almost absent-mindedly — touched her shoulder and shook her lightly.

This action, however, made the teal-haired girl yelp in surprise. She jumped on her seat like being electrocuted, and brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a scream. Her whole body tensed, then it relaxed when she saw it was only Keiichi, kneeling in front of her. At first she was puzzled as to why he was there and why he was in that position, but knowing the young boy, it seemed normal enough for him to do. Sort of.

Shoko and Keiichi both looked around to see if anyone saw them. They sighed in relief when they found out that the others didn't, as they were too engaged in their conversation to even notice. They both looked at each other then, and smiled slightly; Shoko, removing the hand covering her mouth, and letting it fall to her side. She sat back down on the chair, and locked gazes with the young cellist.

"Umm . . . Shi—Shimizu-kun?" she asked, unsure on how to start a small conversation with him. They didn't talk much when they were at school, she noticed. The times when they were able to, it was merely a 'hello' and 'goodbye' — greeting and nothing more. Or, if they were passing by, coming from opposite directions, and heard their beloved redhead senior's music, they'd only comment on it and walk away, listening to the melodies the violin produced. Now that she thought about it, they didn't have a proper conversation, not even once. Until now.

"Yes . . . ?" Keiichi cocked his head to one side, slightly raising an eyebrow questioningly. His fringe moved with the movement of his head, brushing his forehead and the top of his eyes. His messy hair from sleeping didn't ruin his appearance, though. Keiichi's golden hair was like honey to his milky white face. Honey and milk that clashed together and made a beautiful outcome that was Keiichi.

"Umm . . . . Y—You see . . . . Uh . . . ." Shoko struggled to get the words out of her mouth, or rather, form a question. She was nervous, she had to admit, with Keiichi's presence. It was a different kind of feeling when they meet at school and from now. Maybe it was because he was kneeling in front of her like he was . . . . he was— No, that's not possible. And with their current situation, how could she even think about _that_? It was so unlike her.

The young clarinettist breathed in and out, once again trying to calm her heart and nerves. But it was getting hard as Keiichi appeared so captivating, matured, and simply gorgeous in front of her. She swallowed a lump forming in her throat, and bowed her head, hoping to hide the blush creeping her creamy cheeks. "I was go—going to a—ask y—you why you w—were kneeling . . . ?" It didn't come out as a statement in the end, rather a question. She stole a glance at her partner, mildly curious about his reaction. She didn't understand it her self, but she felt like the need to watch his beatific features form a single emotion.

Keiichi stared at her blankly before blinking slowly, registering the words in his mind. "Oh," he finally said, changing his position from kneeling to sitting on the ground. His eyes were still on her, never faltering, as he did this. He hadn't taken them off ever since he watched her by the couch, approached her, and knelt down in front of her. It was . . . weird, but at the same time, it felt . . . right.

"I was trying . . . to get your attention earlier," he started, twirling a finger on the end of one of the strands of his golden locks. He looked at the ceiling as if something interesting was on it, then back to Shoko. He continued, "I was worried . . . about your condition."

"M—My condition?" Shoko echoed Keiichi's last words in confusion. What about it? She felt perfectly fine; she was healthy. What was he talking about? Unless . . . . She gasped lightly when realisation hit her. Of course; how could she have missed that? But . . . did that mean that Keiichi had been observing her since that time?

As if he had read her mind, he answered, "Yes. After the incident earlier; with the firing of guns and . . . with the killing of those _creatures_," he added, cutting the teal-haired girl before she even start arguing, "But you know what? Fuyuumi-san, you're not the only one who doesn't like violence, and the idea of killing. The others are, too. But they had to do it if they want to stay alive, including me."

He searched for her eyes, continued when they once again, locked gazes, "We all know it's wrong, but think about your family. Think about all of the people you care for. I know all of them are waiting for you, safe and sound — protected. Even if we don't have any phones and stuff alike, we can tell. They're all waiting for us; eagerly and impatiently waiting for news about our safety; waiting to hear our voices and see us in person. And most of all, waiting for our arrival."

Keiichi grabbed both of Shoko's shoulders and gave them an encouraging squeeze, "You're no fighter but you must fight. You're not strong and powerful, but you must prove them wrong. You're no murderer, but you must kill." Keiichi stood up, hands still on her shoulder. His gaze softened, as he said those last few words, "You have to fight. Do it for your survival. Do it for you family. Do it for the sake of helping the others get through this. And do it . . . for me." The last sentence could be barely heard, it was like a low whisper to himself, not wanting for her to hear it, but at the same time, he wanted it to be heard.

Keiichi smiled angelically, releasing his hold on Shoko's shoulders and letting his arms drop to his side. "That's all I have to say, and for you to do. I'm not forcing you, or anything like that; I'm only stating this for your own good. That's why," he put his right hand on the girl's right shoulder and gave it a final squeeze, "please don't lose hope. Have courage; believe in your own self and strength. Keep on fighting until the very end, Fuyuumi-san. Stay alive. That's all I ask of you." With that said, Keiichi walked away, leaving a stunned Shoko behind.

That was the longest speech she'd ever heard him make. It was . . . amazing, indescribable, and it took her by surprise, she supposed. Keiichi Shimizu wasn't a man of many words; as a matter of vast fact, he only talked in short sentences and, to everyone's knowledge, bluntly. He'd state his opinions especially in Music, whether one's melody was good or bad. He did speak, she knew, but never in paragraphs — maybe a couple of lines and that was it. This was a first. And what shocked her was that Keiichi's words were directed to _her_ and only her. For her safety; for her survival; and for her sake.

Courage was building up inside Shoko. She had to be strong. No more crying like a baby as it was a display of weakness. If she wanted to get out of this alive, to meet her families and other friends, she had to fight. Even if she was still against violence, at this moment, she had to use it; use it to backfire the undead; so that she wouldn't be a burden to the others, and mostly, to Keiichi.

Shoko breathed in and out in desperation. She had made up her mind to help the others, to help them defeat those _things_, and to fight for survival.

She carefully — almost shyly — took a glance at her side to see Keiichi. When her eyes landed on the young cellist's figure, she noticed that he was looking at her with that beautiful smile of his, encouraging her. This, of course, made her blush madly. But beyond that, as she pushed he shyness away, she nodded in gratitude, mouthing a 'thank you' to him, and in the end, she earned a breathtaking smile that knocked almost all of the air in her lungs.

Shoko quickly averted her gaze from him and she could have sworn she'd heard him chuckle. A light-hearted and melodious chuckle which made her heart rate rise drastically. She tried to ignore it by joining the others in their conversation. Her seniors seemed to be surprise by her sudden appearance, but mostly, they felt delighted.

They would not admit it, but they had actually eavesdropped in their juniors' conversation, curious as to what the two had to say. And they had to admit it, they were impressed with Keiichi's speech — most of them couldn't even believe their eyes and ears. But if it weren't for the blonde-haired cellist, Shoko would've stayed sulking and silently crying at one corner. They were clearly indebted to him, even Kahoko Hino — the juniors' favourite senior — as she didn't know what to say and do, was forever grateful to Keiichi.

"Back to the topic," Ryotaro said with authority. He laid down a map he had found, after rummaging through the dusty, old wardrobe, on the floor. "This," he pointed at one spot on the map, "is where we currently are."

"How can you be so sure, Tsuchiura-kun?" There was doubt in Kahoko's tone. Even if she were close to Ryotaro, how could he be damn so sure about their location? She didn't want to take any other (wrong) chances, nor make the wrong actions.

"You don't trust me?" the pianist sighed, trying to look unoffended by her remark . . . . or question. True; anyone would doubt him, as nobody in the room had any experience with near-to-death situations. But . . . . "I had been in a camp when I was small. They taught us about survival, map readings and the like. But we've never — and I mean, _never_ — learned how to kill a zombie. Zombies only existed in the fictional world, as they say."

"Does that include knowing your current location? It's impossible to decipher," Aoi said, staring at Ryotaro almost challengingly. He didn't pretty much trusted Ryotaro's words, as he might be wrong in some parts. But in this case, it was with location.

"I'm only guessing," Ryotaro said with another sigh. If the banging on the door wasn't enough to annoy and frustrate him, Aoi had to make it worse. Sometimes the pianist found him more annoying than Len. "Look, we're in the woods, right?"

When he saw them nod, he continued, "And in this map," running a perfectly long index finger on the map, he pointed at an area (the only one) with a cluster of trees, "there's only _one_ place with those around. The rest are cities, towns or villages." Before anyone could cut-in, Ryotaro added, "And by using this compass, we'd be able to know where we are by finding the North." The pianist took out a compass from one of the pockets of his trousers and laid it down on the floor.

"And you're saying you have a compass?" Kazuki asked, pouting as he tried to figure out how the pianist had a compass in possession. He folded his arms, looked up the ceiling with a raised eyebrow and a childish pout; his lime-coloured hair falling backward in the process. When he got no clue as to how and why, he stared at Ryotaro like a child asking for sweets.

"I don't have a compass, Hihara-senpai," the pianist answered with a frown. He wasn't very much happy now that he's the centre of attention. He hated attention above all things — scratch that; _second_ to a certain violinist in the group. "Well, maybe I _do_ now. I found it inside that wardrobe," he took a peek at it before averting his eyes quickly, not wanting to see more than he already had. Who knew what else was in _there_.

"Uh-huh," mumbled Kazuki blankly. He exhaled, not knowing when he'd held his breath. He wanted to ask one more question before he would feel at ease. Kazuki opened his mouth to speak and was about to ask Ryotaro, when Len spoke up.

"So, what's the plan?" the male violinist asked, keeping his position as it was earlier. He didn't bother getting up and sitting with the others. Oh no; there was no way he would.

. . . . Since the only available spot was next to Ryotaro Tsuchiura.

They were sitting in a semi-circle as Len wasn't part of it. Aoi sat to the left side of Shoko, Kahoko at her right side. While Kazuki occupied the right side of said redhead, the clarinettist was to her left. Azuma was on Ryotaro's left side, leaving a gap for another person at the other, as he was situated between his lime-haired best friend and the pianist. While Keiichi was sitting alone on the couch.

Len saw his senior, Kazuki, puff his cheeks and looked disappointed. Why? He didn't know for sure. The cerulean-haired boy only raised an elegant eyebrow before deciding to ignore it in the end.

Kazuki had wanted to ask the pianist that particular question, alas, Len beat him to it. He couldn't help but let his childish side take over him. It was . . . a part of who he was. Probably.

"If we want to have some food, we have to go out there. That's the reason why I laid down this map," Ryotaro said, eyes on the rectangular map. He let his fingers wander, pointing at several areas and sections. "It doesn't have any labels — on which shops they are and such, since it only marks cities, towns, villages, roads and basically, physical Geography landscape." He sighed for the umpteenth time; everything was frustrating and he didn't like the idea of doing _all_ of the work. He wished that someone would help him with this.

"So, basically, we have to get out of the woods and fight our way to a nearby town." As if answering the green-haired boy's wish, Azuma spoke up, running his index finger along the map like Ryotaro. It didn't take a genius to figure out the obvious. It was just that the others were blinded by their fright; completely distracted by the undead knocking violently on the door outside. Azuma's finger stopped at a particular area as if marking it, and stared at everyone in the room. "This is the closest place we'll be able to go," he turned his head and watched Ryotaro, "isn't that right, Tsuchiura-kun? I'm pretty sure this is what you wanted to tell us."

"Yes," nodding his head in slight enthusiasm, Ryotaro replied.

Ryotaro intently looked at the girls and said, "Some of us had to go, search for food. You two should stay here, though, we should leave some people behind." He looked at Keiichi, who was silently listening to the conversation. The cellist nodded his head in saying 'alright', and Ryotaro looked at the others. He began, "Shimizu, Yunoki-senpai and . . . ." hesitating for a while, the pianist continued his trailed off sentence, ". . . . Tsukimori would be left behind. Me, Hihara-senpai and Kaji are going out. The three of you are going to protect Hino and Fuyuumi."

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but Tsuchiura-kun, the door wouldn't last any longer," said Aoi, who was now standing by the metal door. He was frowning as he investigated the side of the door. The metal looked as if it would collapse soon, slightly bent inward and the screws on the side loosening. If more weight were to be applied on the outside, the door would give up; giving the undead instant access to the ones left behind in the room.

". . . ." Ryotaro couldn't seem to speak. He kept quiet, shifting his attention from the door to Aoi.

"Maybe it would be better if everyone were to come along—" suggested Kazuki, hesitation evident in his tone.

"No. It's too dangerous," countered Ryotaro. He wouldn't let Kahoko and Shoko out in the open where the zombies would be able to hurt them instantly. Their safety was their number one priority.

"But if we leave them here alone with—"

"It's safer this way . . . ."

"How is it safer if we leave them with the other three guys and when the door breaks, they're outnumbered by the undead? I'm sure they wouldn't be able to shoot all of them down, no matter how many ammunitions we have!" Aoi protested, narrowing his eyes on Ryotaro in a sort of glare.

"And how do you think it's safer if we bring them along? If we're attacked, there's a high possibility that they'll get hurt more than us," retorted the pianist in exasperation. He was beginning to lose his temper. He felt that he would explode like a bomb any time now, if this keeps up.

"Why don't you guys just let the girls decide for themselves?" Azuma joined in with the argument. Truth be told, with the way Aoi'd addressed him, Len and Keiichi in the previous sentence got to his nerves. It sounded as if _they_ were worthless and would fail to protect the only females in the group. Did he really think they were completely and utterly _useless_?

"Hm," agreed Len with a nod of his head.

"You two should keep out of this," Aoi and Ryotaro said simultaneously.

"Hey, hey, hey! Chill down, you guys!" Kazuki tried being the peacemaker, rising from his seat on the ground and stepping in between the verbally fighting musicians. This wasn't going pretty good. It was going down under!

"Senpaitachi," started Keiichi, "please stop. It's not helping anyone."

"What are you—" began Aoi and Ryotaro, only to be cut off by their not-so-sleepy junior.

"Please . . . let Kaho-senpai and Fuyuumi-san decide." There was something in his tone of voice that made them all stop, and give the others a chance.

Ryotaro and Aoi stared at each other for a brief moment, their anger subsiding, and sighed in defeat. "Fine . . . ," they muttered under their breath as everybody watched the girls for their answer.

It didn't take both of them long to decide. Kahoko and Shoko looked at each other and nodded. Kahoko was the one to voice out their decision, "We're going with you. We're not going to be left behind; we're going to fight alongside you." Determination was written all over the redhead's face; she wasn't going to let herself be a burden to the others. No; both of them wouldn't even dare. They wanted to help as much as they possibly could.

Once again, Ryotaro hesitated, but did not say anything. Instead, he nodded and pointed at the wardrobe with his thumb. "The weapons are there, as you already know. You . . . choose." Before everyone collapsed on the ground earlier, Kahoko put the Magnum back inside the wardrobe. She wanted to return it, fearing like Len, that it might unexpectedly shoot. Especially when she's not careful enough, and dropped it by accident . . . .

With a nod, the girls stood up and approached the said furniture. They rummaged through it, until they finally had their ideal weapons at hand.

Shoko had an Enfield Mk II Revolver. She also carried a first aid kit, pain pills and pipe bomb, just in case. She thought about getting the defibrillators but . . . what would she need those for when they're all perfectly healthy?

Kahoko, on the other hand, had an M1911 Pistol at hand. She pocketed a first aid kit, adrenaline shot — since all of the pain pills are gone —, and a Molotov Cocktail. She also carried an M-16 Assault Rifle, attaching it on the back of her uniform top.

"OK, all set," the redhead said, staring at the weapon at hand. It was light, yet at the same time, heavy. But above all those, it was comfortable to hold.

"Hn." Ryotaro whispered something to himself. He was staring at the floor as if fascinated by something on it, and glanced upward when Kahoko spoke up. He nodded, still hesitant as ever, to her and Shoko's direction. "Everybody ready?" he asked.

"Not quite, senpai," answered Keiichi who, too, was rummaging through the wardrobe. When he straightened up, however, the first thing that came to everybody's mind was 'samurai'. Keiichi had a katana at hand; a strip of white cloth was tied around his forehead. A first aid kit, and an adrenaline shot was pocketed in his cream, uniform top, just like Kahoko. He, like his redheaded senior, had a primary weapon attached to the back of his top. In his case, he had an Accuracy International Arctic Warfare — a type of sniper rifle.

"Now . . . I'm ready," yawning for a short while, Keiichi said.

"OK, let's go," Ryotaro said, eyes now glued on the metal door.

The moment the pianist had said that, Len stood up, his Spaz Shotgun — or Combat Shotgun — securely at hand, with other things his friends had in possession pocketed in his top.

Azuma followed, swapping his Desert Eagle for a Hunting Rifle, and gathering several other things such as ammunition and adrenaline shot. He stared calculatingly at the injection he had in his hand in wonder. How do you use this thing? And what is this used for? he asked himself inwardly.

Kazuki was already ready; the things he needed were within his possession. A SIG SG552 can be found in his grasp. He was looking at Kahoko worriedly, shifting his attention toward the said female and to the door.

With a nod of acknowledgement from Ryotaro, Aoi opened the door once more and began firing. They stepped out, one by one, until it was only Kazuki and Kahoko left.

Kazuki took this as an opportunity; he quickly went to the redhead's side, who was about to step out into the wilderness, and smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry; I'll protect you, Kaho-chan. We all will," he rushed out of the room, and began shooting down his enemies.

Kahoko stared at his back for a while before exiting the establishment and closing the door behind her.

The real danger starts now.

* * *

_season's call::_ **it's not turning out the way i wanted it to be. the more i write, the longer and complicated it gets. (-.-') also, i don't think this is getting humorous . . . . so i changed it into 'adventure'. it's starting to get serious for my liking.**

_kazuki::_ **i'll try my best to put as much kazuki/kahoko in here as i possibly could. but maybe, how about a sequel? :-P lawlz, thinking waaay ahead into the future when this one's not yet done. XD or . . . . a different story, perhaps?**

_Magdalene Darling::_ **guns is one of my obsessions! i love guns! zombies . . . . uh . . . . *maybe*. XD and thanks for telling me about the dashes! i'll be more careful using them next time.**

_Flutist's Fate::_ **the story's not the odd one. it is i. lawlz. i wanted to try this out . . . . like i said in the first shot, this is only an 'experimental story'. if you know what i mean.**

_Annalisemarie99::_ **whoop! don't you think the characters holding guns and explosives awesome??? they should have some violence for once! XD**

_chocowinx::_ **same here. at first, i didn't know how to visualise the characters fighting zombies. but i guess by watching films about them and playing Silent Hill helped a little. i'm kind of drooling with my imagination of len holding a shotgun. :-DD**

_Br0k3N Ch0rDs::_ **he is the hardest character to grasp. i think i'm going to have tons of trouble with him in the future chapters . . . .**

_Sky'sShadow::_ **XD for being {kind of} weird, i have a list of reasons why azuma'd want aoi dead. ehm. or not.**

_WatashiNoTenshi07::_ **here's the update you're waiting for! sorry for the wait. (-;**

_fanfatic08::_ **you know, what i wrote down in the summary was actually the one that triggered this idea. i was daydreaming in geography class {i'm so sorry, ms. h! XD} whilst thinking of writing my own novel . . . . based on action. and i decided to try it out with the la corda characters for this experiment. that's why i called this as an 'experimental story'.**

**_thank you for reading! please review. ;-D_  
**


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